Cuddling on the bench
Time’s winged chariot flies
It flies fast
Gnarled hands fumbling
For some vestigial remains
Of those memories rain-drenched
By time so ruthlessly trenched!
Hey, why is the patio still wet
She had again come, I bet
And what fragrance is that?
Please, will someone stop this bleeding?
This hallucination, this painful kneading
Of a lonely heart left with no option but to grieve
For the one who, this world, had to abruptly leave.